LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



SheliUlV-y:- 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



1 



Gi^qn]bs of CouifoFt* 



BY 



/ 

MRS. F. A. NOBLE. 




;rg^7> 



AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 

150 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK. 






f^ 



^Ni^^ 



O^ 




DRY 



OF OKE BELOVED, 



WHO ENTERED INTO THE LARGER LIFE 



JULY 4, 1890. 



COPYRIGHT, 1892, 
AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 



GONTRNTS. 



Little Children _ _ 5 

The Lord Gave - 10 

The Better Country 16 

Cherishing our Grief _— 24 

The Seen and the Unseen ;^^ 

" God Who Comforteth " _ _ 40 



Crumbs of Comfort. 



LITTLE CHILDREN. 

Why do they come, these little ones that 
enter our homes by the gateway of suffering, 
and then linger with us a few months, uttering 
no words, smiling in a mysterious silence, yet 
speaking eloquently all the time of the purity 
and sweetness of heaven? Why must they 
open the tenderest fountains of our natures only 
to leave them so soon choked with the bitter 
tears of loss ? 

It is impossible wholly to answer such ques- 
tions of the tortured heart, but one can say, in 
general, that these little temporary wanderers 
from a celestial home come and go because of the 
great love of God. It is an inestimable blessing 
to have been the parent of a child that has the 
stamp of heaven upon its brow, to hold it in 



6 CRUMBS OF COMFORT. 

one's arms, to minister to it, to gaze fondly 
down into the little upturned face, and to re- 
joice in the nnsiillied beauty of its smiles, and 
then — to give it back to God at his call, with the 
thought that in heaven, as upon earth, it is still 
our own child, a member of the household still, 
to be counted always as one of the children 
whom God hath given us. 

Such a love chastens and sanctifies the hearts 
of the father and mother, carries them out be- 
yond time and sense, and gives them a hold 
upon the unseen. As things of great value 
always cost, it is worth all the sorrow to have 
known this holy afifection and to have this treas- 
ure in heaven. 

A little newspaper waif some years ago gave 
expression thus to the question of these griev- 
ing hearts : 

" Ah, little child with flowers in hand, 
Upon our earthly borderland, 

Lying in white dreams wonderful ! 
Men deem it strange that thou shouldst cross 

Into a world so sorrowful 
To make it harder with thy loss." 



LITTLE CHILDREN. 7 

And then the poet, seeing that it was Christ's 
purpose that this 

" Bud growing upon lifers fairest tree " 

should become a human soul and share in the 
blessed benefits of His death, adds, 

" Fly home and make all heaven glad 

To see the welcome in His face, 
And rest thee, for that smile is sad, 

Upon His breast a little space 
Before the angel children greet 
Thee, comforted with looks most sweet, 

And wonder at the earthly year. 

The mystery of pain and tear, 
That lit thy deep and radiant eyes 
With meanings new to paradise." 

It is but a dreamer's picture, but it has com- 
forted a little the sad hearts of those who strove 
to reach beyond the veil. It has in it the true 
thought of the omnipresent love of Him who 
said, " Suffer little children to come unto me, 
for of such is the kingdom of heaven.'' 
**I '11 meet the man in the world's rude din 
Who hath outlived his mother's kiss, 
Who hath forsaken her love, for sin ; 
I will be spared her pang in this. 



CRUMBS OF COMFORT. 

** Man's way is hard and sore beset ; 
Many must fall, but few can win. 
Thanks, dear Shepherd ! My lamb is safe, 
Safe from sorrow and safe from sin.'* 

MARY CLEMMER AMES. 

BEST. 

*' Mother, I see you with your nursery light 
Leading your babies, all in white. 

To their sweet rest ; 
Christ, the Good Shepherd, carries mine to-night, 

And that is best. 

** I cannot help tears when I see them twine 
Their fingers in yours, and their bright curls shine 

On your warm breast ; 
But the Saviour's is purer than yours or mine, 

And that is best. 

" You tremble each hour because your arms 
Are weak ; your heart is wrung with alarms 

And sore opprest ; 
My darlings are safe, out of reach of harms, 

And that is best. 

" You know over yours may hang even now 
Pain and disease, whose fulfilling slow 

Naught can arrest ; 
Mine in God's gardens run to and fro. 

And that is best. 



LITTLE CHILDREN. 9 

'*You know that of yours your feeblest one 
And dearest may live long years alone, 

Unloved, unblest ; 
Mine are cherished of saints around God's throne. 

And that is best. 

"You must dread for yours the crime that sears. 
Dark guilt unwashed by repentant tears 

And unconfessed ; 
Mine entered spotless on eternal years ; 

Oh how much the best ! 

" But grief is selfish ; I cannot see 
Always why I should so stricken be 

More than the rest ; 
But I know that, as well as for them, for me 

God did the best." H. h. 



lO CRUMBS OF COMFORT. 



THE LORD GAVE. 



Not long ago two friends sat side by side, 
looking into each other's faces through falling 
tears, pain gnawing at each heart, but with their 
hands clasped in a common faith in a wise and 
loving Heavenly Father. There was a likeness 
in their sorrow, a likeness also in their consola- 
tion. From the younger woman, sunny-faced 
and still youthful, a child of rare loveliness had 
been recently borne in the Saviour's arms to the 
home above. The poet-friend who ministered 
to the bereaved circle not only directed their 
hearts to the ''Christus Consolator," but he also 
spoke with tender emphasis upon the words of 
Job in his extremity, dwelling particularly on 
the expression, ''The Lord gave.*' As in the 
interchange of sad confidences this was told to 
the other and older mother, she exclaimed, 
" Why it is the very thought in which I lived 



THE LORD GAVE. II 

all those dreadful days It was not so much, 
the Lord taketh away, but the Lord gave me so 
many years of the dearest love, of blessed car- 
ing and being cared for, of sweetest companion- 
ship and intimacy. So great was the exultant 
gratitude for a gift so priceless, that rebellion at 
its recall was not even dreamed of at the time. 
In the shadows of the valley, awaiting God*s 
will, the soul spontaneously met God's mandate 
with the response, ' Blessed be the name of the 
Lord !* " 

Because this experience was so marked as 
well as so sustaining in the trial of these strick- 
en friends, I have thought that other grieving 
hearts might possibly be lifted out of their 
gloom by the same remembrance. 

When the Judge of all the earth recalls the 
precious gift he has put into our life, we are 
smitten with a sense of irreparable loss. The 
strong tides of friendly compassion flow into 
our desolated home because, when such treasure 
is taken, life can never again be what it has 
been. The eye will hunger and ache for the 



12 CRUMBS OF COMFORT. 

dear face ; the ear will crave the tausic of the 
voice that is still. The deep affection of our 
nature will not be silenced in its longing. Life 
must be readjusted. New lessons must be 
learned, of patience in tribulation, submission, 
and hope. 

But to dwell wholly upon the loss is short- 
sighted, selfish, and ungrateful. Was it not the 
goodness of God, his undeserved love, that made 
the blessing ours at all ? He gave the harmony 
of features and color and expression that formed 
the countenance we never tired of looking upon. 
He gave the sunny, unselfish, loyal heart, the 
quick perceptions, the noble purposes that con- 
stituted the character of one in whom we de- 
lighted. He gave all the years of development 
and closest companionship and helpfulness. He 
gave the quick, springing sympathy that under- 
stood without words. He gave all the fruitions 
of these dear family relationships which we be- 
lieve have their prototype in the world beyond. 
He gave the spirit that could no longer taber- 
nacle with the flesh, but, escaping from its en- 



THE LORD GAVE. 1 3 

thralment, entered upon the blessed immor- 
tality. 

The Lord gave, and we were not always 
mindful of his giving. It seemed so natural 
and lasting to be living side by side, talking 
and walking together, thinking, planning, work- 
ing, enjoying, one and yet happy two. But this 
sweet experience is not granted to all. How 
many lonely lives there are ! How many stand 
utterly alone ! Even while there are family ties, 
how often the bond lacks tenderness and devo- 
tion ! Two natures placed very near together 
may be antagonistic. Circumstances may build 
adamant walls of separation. There are homes 
into which no children have come to unseal the 
fountains of parental love. There are other 
homes into which they have brought care and 
disgrace. 

If our memories are only of sunlight and 
cheer and strength; if we can recall only the 
qualities that made the beloved seem necessary 
to our own existence or helpful to the wider 
need of the world, let us not forget to say in 



14 CRUMBS OF COMFORT. 

view of so much blessing, " The Lord gave all 
this to me, unworthy. Blessed be the name of 
the Lord !'' Bearing sorrow thus in loving rec- 
ognition of his goodness, we shall come in time 
to say also, " And the Lord hath taken away/* 
in an equal love and wisdom. *^ Blessed be the 
name of the Lord !" 



HER PHOTOGRAPH. 

This is her shadow, nothing more : 
The eyes that wear no smile for mine, 

The silent lips that laughed before, 
The hair without its wave and shine, 
This mask that shows no spark divine. 

How calm and cold it looks at me ! 
Her eyes were full of shade and sun, 

A look that rippled like the sea 
Across whose breast the light winds run- 
A gleam, a cloud, a tale begun. 

This is the veil her soul put on 
To run the weary ways of earth. 

And when her brief, bright race was won, 
She laid it down beside her hearth, 
A worn-out thing of little worth. 



THE LORD GAVE. 1$ 

It is not she that fronts me here, 
This speechless aspect still and cold ; 

I knew her fair and sweet and dear, 
A clinging girl with heart of gold 
And hands that clasped with tender hold. 

Was it a gentle prophecy, 
This slight, transparent mould of clay, 

To let the loving round her see 
How soon the soul must flit away 
That fluttered, paused, and made no stay ? 

" Not here, but risen !" Oh angel song 
Still falling soft on hearts that weep ! 

This is the dead whose ashes long 
Her Master^s messengers shall keep 
Safe in earth's last undreaming sleep. 

But she who wore this mortal guise 
Has fled beyond our tearful sight ; 

Joyful and strong, serene and wise. 
She Hves upon the hills of light, 
And waits us on that heavenly height. 

ROSE TERRY COOkc. 



l6 CRUMBS OF COMFORT. 



THE BETTER COUNTRY. 



" That is the heavenly.'' Such is the teach- 
ing in the Epistle to the Hebrews. '' The city 
that hath foundations, whose builder and ma- 
ker is God/' stood out before the eye of faith in 
glory almost as tangible as the beautiful city of 
Jerusalem, the joy of the Jewish heart. There 
is comfort and healing in the thought, as if 
balmy breath came down to the soul from the 
everlasting hills. The beloved who are with the 
Lord have not gone out into an unknown land 
whither our hearts are forbidden to follow. We 
are not left in ignorance of their state. It is a 
country, and a better country, in which they are 
dwelling. 

Would life be so very bitter if a dear one 
were in a foreign land, even for a long term of 
years ? Undeniably, absence would bring lone- 
liness and pain. Life would not be so rich and 
joyous as if he were near, entering into our 



THE BETTER COUNTRY. 17 

plans, sharing in our success, sympathizing with 
our defeats. But if it were greatly for his good, 
bringing him wealth and beneficial connections 
with those whom it is an honor to know, and 
especially adding much to his happiness, should 
we try to keep him in the narrow round of our 
own little hamlet, or spend our days in mur- 
muring rebellion because we could not see him 
or hear him speak ? We should still hold him 
dear, and send daily across the wide waters our 
yearning messages of love. Those among whom 
he walked in the unseen land would rise before 
our imagination with a personality more and 
more distinct as we should be taught concerning 
their manners and customs. The unknown 
land, because it held one whom we knew and 
loved so much, would become a part of our own 
world. We should dwell with the absent one 
and he with us. We see this in the case of our 
missionary mothers. Their children go abroad 
for a lifetime. They may meet again once or 
twice or thrice, and yet each farewell is as if it 
were the last. It is a new relinquishment of all 

Crumbs of Comfort. 



1 8 CRUMBS OF COMFORT. 

the delights of personal presence, sweet minis- 
try, and frequent interchange of thought and 
affection. But as the missionary carries to 
China or Africa an unfading picture of the old 
home and the dearest friends, the mother's 
heart sets forth her canvas and begins to paint 
the little foreign house, the strange people that 
gather to it for instruction, and the varied ser- 
vice in schools and native homes and strange 
tourings in the name of the Lord Jesus. The 
jinrikisha is scarcely less familiar than the phae- 
ton, the compound or the kraal than our own 
door-yard, or the tall palm-tree than the elm 
or maple of our highway. 

So it is in regard to our friends in the Better 
Country. They live as truly as if they were here 
or in Europe. They praise God, and they also 
serve him. They love with a purity and depth 
of tenderness infinitely beyond the sweetest of 
that love we knew and miss so sorely. 

" They watch with God the rolling hours 
With other, larger eyes than ours, 
To make allowance for us all." 



THE BETTER COUNTRY. I9 

Only the pain and burden of the earthly life are 
eliminated from their experience. Whatever 
was truly beautiful and joyous and serviceable 
is still a part of their nature, and theirs is in- 
deed the fulness of life. 

The Better Country is one of unspeakable 
delight. Prophets and apostles and poets have 
heard its music and had visions of its glory. 
Human language has struggled to make known 
that for which it has no adequate symbol. But 
the Apocalypse, and hymns like St. Bernard's 
and George Herbert's and Wesley's and Fa- 
ber's, lead our halting thoughts towards its shi- 
ning boundaries. Nothing that the emancipa- 
ted spirit can desire is wanting. Beauty of 
cloud or tree or flower, of form or color, of rav- 
ishing harmony, of exquisite texture, is found 
there in an affluence of which that we have here 
is but a suggestion. There are friendships and 
unembarrassed communion of souls. There is 
the fountain of truth ever open to the eager 
mind, and those who drink from it go away sat- 
isfied. The Lord of that country is always near ; 



20 CRUMBS OF COMFORT. 

" That where I am there ye raay be also/' Lov- 
ing eyes behold his glory. Adoring hearts 
meet him in that oneness for which he prayed 
to the Father. Satisfaction, peace, blessedness, 
is the atmosphere of this Better Country. 

Are these things truly so, or are they merely 
a poet's dream ? According to God's Word they 
are true, only falling far short of reality. Ac- 
cording to the instinctive belief of the soul they 
are also true. 

" O friends, no proof beyond this yearning, 
This outreach of our souls, we need ; 
God will not mock the hope He giveth ; 
No love He prompts shall vainly plead." 

According to the reasoning of the strongest and 
clearest philosophical minds, they are solid fact 
instead of sentimental hope and desire. Those 
who died to our sight, having walked with Christ 
here, have risen in newness of life, in freedom 
and power, in gladness and triumph, into immor- 
tality in the heavenly place. The grave has 
never even received them. Before the worn-out 
body was covered from our sight, the spirit we 



THE BETTER COUNTRY. 21 

loved, with its glorified body, entered the para- 
dise of God. There it dwells, and thither must 
otir thoughts and affections follow, 

^* Looking up and not down, 
Forward and not backward," 

seeking for ourselves also an abundant entrance 
into this Heavenly Country which holds those 
still identified with our life, and Him by whom 
death was conquered, our Redeemer and King. 

" More homelike seems this vast unknown 

Since they have entered there ; 
To follow them were not so hard 

Wherever they may fare ; 
They cannot be where God is not, 

On any sea or shore ; 
Whate'er betides, 
Thy love abides, 

Our God, for evermore." 

THE HEAVENLY SECRET. 

Does the dark and soundless river 
Stretch so wide — 
The homeward rolling tide 
Over which have crossed 
Our loved and early lost — 



22 CRUMBS OF COMFORT. 

That their unsealed eyes may never see 

The further side 
Where still amid this coil and misery 

We bide? 

Is the realm of their transition 
Close at hand 
To this our Hving land, 
Nearer than we dream ? 
Can they catch the gleam 
Of our smiles, and hear the words we speak, 

And see our deeds, 
And, looking deeper than our eyes may seek. 
Our needs ? 

Do they mingle in our gladness ? 
Do they grieve 
When ways of good we leave ? 
Do they know each thought and hope ? 
While we in shadow grope, 
Can they hear the future's high behest, 

Yet lack the power 
To lead us from our ills or to arrest 
The hour ? 

When they find us bowed with sorrow 
Do they sigh ? 
Or when earth passes by 
For them do they forget 
The cares that here beset 



THE BETTER COUNTRY. 23 

Their well-beloved? Or do they wait 

(Oh be it thus !) 
And watch beside the golden gate 

For us ? 

We are yearning for their secret ; 
Though we call, 
No answers ever fall 
Upon our dullard ears 
To quell our nameless fears. 
Yet God is over all, whate'er may be, 

And trusting so. 
Patience, my heart ! a little while, and we 
Shall know. 

GEORGE COOPER. 



24 CRUMBS OF COMFORT. 



CHERISHING OUR GRIEF. 



There is a wide difference between cherisli- 
ing our grief and cherishing the memory of 
those who have been taken away from us. In 
cherishing grief we become selfish, blind to 
other good still lavishly bestowed upon us, less 
mindful of the needs of those who should have 
our ministry in the home and the wide world 
of suffering, ignorance, and crime. " Was ever 
sorrow like unto my sorrow?" is the refrain of 
a heart that will not see the love and wisdom 
of the Holy Will. Such a grief gathers to itself 
that upon which it may feed. Anniversaries 
are its harvest days ; sad memories are recalled 
and dwelt upon ; lost hopes are magnified. 
Rebellion turns to doubt about God's care ; and 
doubt, once admitted, poisons the whole inner 
life. 

Doubtless there is often a fear of being dis- 



CHERISHING OUR GRIEF. 2$ 

loyal to the beloved dead. Even when kindly 
nature makes it evident that life can and must 
go on, and laughter once more stands waiting 
upon the threshold, there is almost a sense of 
duty in barring the door against cheerfulness 
and hope. Strange blindness of these human 
hearts ! For whom do we honor by our repi- 
nings and remonstrance, our sad faces and tones, 
and by the whole epistle of our lives ? Surely 
not our Father whom we call love, not the in- 
finite wisdom, not the Scriptures with their rev- 
elations and promises, not the friends who have 
exchanged earth for heaven, care and pain for 
perfect felicity, weakness for strength, sinning 
for holiness, uncertainty for light and truth. 
Nor do we honor our own reason and fortitude, 
or our docility, or our Christian faith. To cher- 
ish our grief demoralizes both the physical and 
the spiritual nature. 

But cherishing the remembrance of those 
who are gone may be a means of grace to our- 
selves and others. It may lift the soul into a 
new region of joy and do much to wean it from 



26 CRUMBS OF COMFORT. 

the trivialities of the life we have hitherto led 
It is possible to recognize and to strengthen a 
bond between the spirit in heaven and the spirit 
still in the flesh. Do you remember the three 
words in which Charles Kingsley "wrote the 
story of his life, past, present, and future " ? 
AmavimuSy amainuSy amabimus. We may say 
not only we have lovedy but we love, we shall love. 
My thought goes above and beyond this earthly 
horizon ; I believe the thought of those I have 
in heaven comes down to me in my agony of 
bereavement. The sweet pity that so often 
found expression here cannot be quenched now 
that they see so much more clearly the desola- 
tion and bewilderment of my heart. Why may 
not those who do not forget us while they see 
Him face to face ask in their heaven-taught 
wisdom for blessings according to our need ? 

We may cherish the thought of a personal- 
ity. 

** Known and unknown, human, divine ; 

Sweet human hand and lips and eye ; 

Dear heavenly friend that canst not die, 

Mine, mine, for ever mine." 



CHERISHING OUR GRIEF. 2/ 

The Spiritual body with the same lineaments 
made all beautiful and glorious, the same nature 
purified and enlarged, this is my friend in the 
Better Country. I may make more definite my 
thought of him as '' keenly alive,'* without un- 
rest, yet ever advancing, as of old a part of my 
life, but drawing me heavenward in a newly 
awakened tenderness and aspiration. 

" They do not die 
Nor lose their mortal sympathy, 
Nor change to us although they change/^ 

Some try to bear their grief by shutting out 
memories, crowding the life with duties so that 
no time is left for self-torture. Work is good, 
and, next to submission to God's will, is the best 
cure for sorrow. But with the work it is better 
to cherish the ideal, which is in the best sense 
real, than to stifle our holiest affections. It 
mellows and refines the character to cultivate 
the earnest conviction that those who are absent 
from our home are present with the Lord. It 
does not harm us, it may help us, to think of the 
family groupings in some of the many mansions 



28 CRUMBS OF COMFORT. 

of the Father's house. Let our conversation be 
in heaven as literally as it is on earth. 

The cherished memory and the continued 
clasp of the hand of one who has died in Christ 
may be a means of blessing in leading our de- 
sire beyond the one who at first filled all the 
heart. Loving and entering so far as the in- 
structed imagination may do into the enjoyment 
and the service of one in heaven, we may be led 
by this friend we know into the blessed pres- 
ence of Him " whom, not having seen, we love.'' 
There may be a subtle sympathy awakening a 
holy dissatisfaction even while we commune 
with the departed, until with them we fall in 
adoration at the Saviour's feet, praising him as 
the chief among ten thousand and the alto- 
gether lovely. It will be found to be a matter 
of Christian experience that the cherished love 
of one who is with Christ impels the soul to 
say. Whom have I in heaven but thee, my 
Lord ? and there is none upon earth that I de- 
sire beside thee. 

Is not this the interpretation of a letter from 



CHERISHING OUR GRIEF. 29 

one who wrote : '' Yield to the shadow, my dear 
friend, so that it may enwrap you in with the 
lost dear one in the Father's house. There is 
no comfort, no such comfort, otherwhere. It is 
out of the depth of the sorrow that comes the 
healing balm, or that will come by-and-by 
through abiding with grief. Then you will 
have strength to turn back to what remains, 
and the sense of regret will become a heavenly 
bond, and into the absence will glide the pres- 
ence, and what has been lost will be in some 
better fashion restored to you. How else is it 
that our Lord could say, ' Blessed are they that 
mourn, for they shall be comforted ' ?" 

The companionship and satisfaction we con- 
stantly crave need not be all in the future tense. 
Linked to heaven are we now and here, if we 
will only open our eyes to see, and cultivate, 
within the teachings of God's Word, the thought 
of '' our glorified.'' 

" And they we mourn are with us yet, 
Are more than ever ours, 
Ours by the pledge of love and faith, 



30 CRUMBS OF COMFORT. 

By hopes of heaven on high, 
By trust triumphant over death, 
In immortality." 



"NOT DEAD, BUT RISEN. 

Lines from the Arabic. 

He who died at Azim sends 
This to comfort all his friends. 

" Faithful friends ! it lies, I know. 
Pale and white and cold as snow, 
And ye say, * Abdullah 's dead !' 
Weeping at the feet and head. 
I can see your falling tears, 
I can hear your sighs and prayers ; 
Yet I smile and whisper this : 
I am not the thing you kiss. 
Cease your tears and let it lie ; 
It was mine ; it is not /. 

" Sweet friends ! what the women lave 
For the last sleep of the grave 
Is a hut which I am quitting, 
Is a garment no more fitting. 
Is a cage from which at last 
Like a bird my soul has passed. 
Love the inmate, not the room, 
The wearer, not the garb, the plume 
Of the eagle, not the bars 
That kept him from those splendid stars. 



CHERISHING OUR GRIEF. 3 1 

" Loving friends ! be wise and dry 
Straightway every weeping eye : 
What ye lift upon the bier 
Is not worth a single tear. 
'Tis an empty sea-shell — one 
Out of which the pearl has gone ; 
The shell is broken, it lies there ; 
The pearl, the all, the soul, is here. 

" 'T is an earthen jar whose lid 
Allah sealed, the while it hid 
That treasure of His treasury, 
A mind that loved Him ; let it lie ! 
Let the shard be earth's once more, 
Since the gold is in His store ! 

** Allah glorious ! Allah good ! 
Now the world is understood ; 
Now the long, long wonder ends : 
Yet ye weep, my erring friends. 
While the man whom ye call dead 
Lives and loves you : lost, 't is true, 
For the light that shines for you ; 
But in the light ye cannot see, 
In a perfect paradise. 
And a life that never dies. 

" Farewell, friends ! but not farewell : 
Where I am ye too shall dwell. 
I am gone before your face 
A moment's worth, a little space. 



32 CRUMBS OF COMFORT. 

When ye come where I have slept 
Ye will wonder why ye wept ; 
Ye will know by true love taught 
That here is all and there is naught. 
Weep a while if ye are fain — 
Sunshine still must follow rain — 
Only not at death, for death, 
Now we know, is that first breath 
Which our souls draw when we enter 
Life which is of all life centre. 

" Be ye certain all seems love 
Viewed from Allah's throne above ! 
Be ye stout of heart, and come 
Bravely onward to your home ! 
La, il Allah ! Allah, la ! 
O love divine ! O love alway !" 

He who died at Azim gave 

This to those who made his grave. 

EDWIN ARNOLD. 



THE SEEN AND THE UNSEEN. 33 



THE SEEN AND THE UNSEEN. 



If Wordsworth in the quiet of his home in 
the lake district could say, 

''The world is too much with us ; late and soon 
Getting and spending we lay waste our powers," 

it is preeminently true of the ambitions and 
rivalries of the times in which we live. The 
world is with us whether we will have it or not. 
For ourselves and those providentially depen- 
dent upon us there must be the struggle to 
obtain food, shelter, clothing, and education. 
Homes must be kept clean and fresh and cheer- 
ful. Society makes its demands both reasonable 
and unreasonable. Cultivation of the God-given 
faculties, either literary or artistic, is one of the 
constraining fashions of the day, and even reli- 
gion creates its own whirlpool of charities and 
church services of various kinds, until the poor 
soul has scant time for that quiet refreshment 
by heavenly communings without which it be- 

Ornmbs of Comfort. 



34 CRUMBS OF COMFORT. 

comes of the earth earthy. All this is in accord- 
ance with man's estimate of what it is to live. 

The divine estimate is very different : '' Take 
no anxious thought ; trust in the Lord and do 
good ; seek those things that are above.'' Ev- 
erywhere in God's Word we find the same les- 
son of subordinating this life to the next, earth 
to heaven, the seen to the unseen. 

Nothing brings our wonted life to a stand- 
still like an absorbing grief. When '' the face 
of all the world is changed " by the removal of 
one who has been the light and joy of the home, 
the relation and value of here and there are 
changed also. When those we call our own 
are all about us, earth is strong and beautiful 
and satisfying. Heaven wooes in vain. How 
often have loving hearts exclaimed, ^' I want no 
sweeter heaven than this dear home with its 
fulness of love and protecting care." But when 
He who sees both earth and heaven takes these 
precious ones to Himself, how different is the out- 
look, how changed the attraction ! '' For where 
the treasure is there will the heart be also." 



THE SEEN AND THE UNSEEN. 35 

A wise friend said to another from whom a 
part of herself had been sharply torn away, and 
who strove to say, '' It is best for her,'* '' Yes, 
and it is best for yon also." " Undoubtedly," was 
the reply, " but I do not yet see how this can be. 
Patience, submission, duty, these remain, but no 
suggestion comes of fruition, and even should 
the peaceable fruits of righteousness afterward 
be mine, they must have the look and taste of 
that which is grown in the shade and chilliness 
of sorrow." Yet when the vacillating thought 
settled quietly and firmly towards the pole of 
God's great wisdom and love, when upon the 
foundation of revelation the city of heaven 
rose clear and resplendent out of the earth-mists 
of doubt and tears, this also v/as found to be true : 

'^ For over my cleft heart 
Feel I an eternal life sweeping 
Since she died." 

After a sorrow accepted and borne as from a 
Father's hand, the unseen becomes more real 

and lasting than the seen. We have learned 
as never before how uncertain are all earthly 



36 CRUMBS OF COMFORT. 

pleasures and hopes ; that the beautiful things 
are transient, the strong are undermined, the 
trusted sometimes deceive, cherished plans are 
ruthlessly destroyed. Then for the first time 
we can accept the divine measure of our earthly 
life. We admit that we are pilgrims and stran- 
gers here, and thank God for the eternal life 
beyond. New questions arise. Are my foun- 
dations strong ? Is my house in order ? Is this 
soul of mine preparing for everlasting habita- 
tions ? Prayer cuts a deeper channel, and flows 
with more freshness and force towards the throne 
of God. It is fed by the underground stream of 
eager desires and hopes running beneath the 
daily and necessary tasks. God's Word is mar- 
vellously illuminated by sorrow. It is found to 
be all aflame with revelations concerning the 
unseen world and Him who is invisible. What 
depths of meaning are found in its familiar pas- 
sages. ''Heaven," indeed, ''lies all about us,'* 
as we hear it read. We are finally brought into 
agreement with Paul when he says, " No chas- 
tening for the present seemeth to be joyous but 



I 



THE SEEN AND THE UNSEEN. 37 

grievous ; nevertheless afterward it yieldeth the 
peaceable fruits of righteousness to them that 
are exercised thereby. For these light afflic- 
tions which are but for a moment work out for 
us a far more exceeding and eternal weight 
of glory ; while we look not at the things which 
are seen but at the things which are not seen ; 
for the things which are seen are temporal, but 
the things which are not seen are eternal.'* 

'' Do you know the language of Canaan ?'* 
was the question asked by an eminent saint. 
When the beloved who have gone thither have . 
drawn there also our reluctant thought and un- 
dying love, when we have learned to see them 
in the refulgent light of the unseen, when we 
have grown more and more into realization of 
their companionship with the Master and his 
glorified ones, and our reverent imagination fol- 
lows them in the gladness of their new life of 
unwearying love-service, do we not know some- 
thing of the language of that land ''beyond the 
swelling flood"? 

Earth has its sweetness and glory, but after 



38 CRUMBS OF COMFORT. 

sorrow has swept the heart, sunshine and flow- 
ers, green fields and bending trees, suggest the 
unfading and surpassing beauty of the country 
where our dear ones are, and where we hope to 
meet them in God's good time. Human friend- 
ships are no less sustaining and delightful, but 
we connect them with the blessed hereafter 
when the dross shall have been purged away. 
Life's duties are still to be carried on, but with 
a new uplook to the Father of our spirits for his 
inspiration and guidance. Trials are to be met 
and endured, but in the goodly felloYvrship of 
those who '' made it manifest that they were 
seeking after a country of their own," for whom 
" God hath prepared a city." Thus through be- 
reavement God's children are taught to be in 
the world but not of it, and to set their affec- 
tions on things above. 



THE SEEN AND THE UNSEEN. 39 

HERE AND THERE. 

We sit beside the lower feast to-day, 

She at the higher. 
Our voices falter as we bend and pray ; 

In the great choir 

Of happy ones she sings and does not tire. 

We break the bread of patience, and the wine 

Of tears we share ; 
She tastes the vintage of that glorious vine 

Whose branches fair 

Set for the healing of the nations are. 

I wonder is she sorry for our pain ? 

Or if, grown wise, 
She, wondering, smiles and counts them idle, vain, 

These heavy sighs. 

These longings for her face and happy eyes ? 

Smile on then, darUng; what God wills is best ; 

We loose our hold, 
Content to leave thee to the deeper rest, 

The safer fold. 

To joy's immortal youth, while we grow old ; 

Content the cold and wintry^ day to bear, 

The icy wave, 
And know thee in immortal summer there 

Beyond the grave, 

Content to give thee to the love that gave. 

SUSAN COOLIDGE. 



40 CRUMBS OF COMFORT. 

^^GOD WHO COMFORTETH." 



** All that God wounds he constantly is healing, 
Quietly, gently, softly, but surely." 

How sweetly and unexpectedly the divine 
message often comes to us ! It dropped from 
the reader's lips at evening prayers not long 
ago : ^' God, who comforteth them that are cast 
down, hath comforted us also by the coming of 
Titus/' It fell upon heart-soil that had been 
freshly ploughed and harrowed and was espe- 
cially receptive of God's truth. Paul well knew 
what God can do and never fails to do for those 
who trust themselves to him. *' Blessed be the 
God* of all comfort, who comforteth us in all 
our affliction." Blessed sorrow, light affliction 
indeed, that enwraps us still more tenderly in 
his thoughtful care ! 

Paul was comforted, in part at least, by 
God's use of a human friend — '' the coming of 
Titus." This is the common experience. There 
is no time when a friend feels so inadequate as 



''GOD WHO COMFORTETH. 4I 

in the presence of grief. The sanctity of sor- 
row, the hoUowness of words, the utter loneli- 
ness in which the soul treads its wine-press, 
make one shrink from even the attempt at con- 
solation. Whether voiced or not, it is felt that 
nothing less than Omniscient love and wisdom 
can pour balm into bleeding hearts. And yet 
God uses just these shrinking, stammering 
friends to help us through our hours of need. 
The pressure of the hand, the sympathy writ- 
ten on the face and vibrating in the tones, the 
tears that fall, the hearts that just love with 
unutterable pity, the eloquent flower, the relief 
from services that must be attended to, the pa- 
tience that bears with the overstrained nature, 
the generosity that anticipates every want, in 
all these and many other waj^s God comforts, 
through friends, those that are cast down. 

I have been looking over a precious bundle 
of letters, all written in view of one of God's 
dealings with his children. They are from the 
East and the West, the North and the South, 
from dwellers by the sea and in the mountains, 



42 CRUMBS OF COMFORT. 

from sight-seers in European capitals and toil- 
ers on missionary ground, from rich and poor, 
learned and simple, but they are all redolent of 
the tenderest and most delicate love and sym- 
pathy and strong with an up-bearing confidence 
in Him who is over all. 

'* Dead paper, mute and white ! 
And yet they seem alive and quivering 
Against my tremulous hands that loose the string/* 

They were God's messengers to make known 
the kinship of human hearts and the Christ- 
like impulse to help. 

There came an anniversary day, the day of 
gladness to all Christendom, when little chil- 
dren shout for joy, and those who love them 
realize how much more blessed it is to give 
than to receive ; when older faces have an un- 
wonted tenderness and radiance because of the 
affection that has devised some sweet surprise 
and enrichment. It was a dreaded day, prom- 
ising only sad memories and an unusually 
bitter sense of lifelong loss. But how won- 
derful were the comforts of God through the 



''GOD WHO COMFORTETH/* 43 

coming of friends ! Friendly hands were used 
by the divine will to bear up those who were 
faint and ready to fall, and the dreaded day had 
its peculiar peace and even joy. 

God who comforteth those who are cast 
down has caused much to be written for our so- 
lace and enlightenment. '' What shall I read?'' 
said one groping for light, to a beloved minister 
acquainted with sorrow by personal experience 
and long Christian service. 

'' The Bible,'' was his prompt reply. 

Reaching out our hands in the darkness, we 
take hold of David's as he said, '' I shall go to 
him, but he will not return to me ;" and of Job's 
as he affirms, *' I know that my Redeemer liv- 
eth." Those ever-blessed words of our Lord 
in the beginning of the fourteenth chapter of 
John are never fully understood until we read 
them through the lens of tears. And Paul's 
words about the spiritual body shine in the 
gloom of bereavement like stars above a track- 
less waste. In John's vision we learn to see 
the New Jerusalem, having the glory of God, 



44 CRUMBS OF COMFORT. 

where his servants serve him and see his face, 
and the Lord giveth them light, and they reign, 
tearless, painless, sinless, and rejoicing for ever 
and ever. 

"And hope and faith the blest assurance give, 
We do not live to die ! We die to live !" 

The Old Testament and the New abound 
in testimonies to the care and ministry of a 
Heavenly Father, his love when he chastens, 
and his sustaining grace. 

But what gifts of consolation are scattered 
all along the centuries — by God's will again 
through the hand of his chosen servants — that 
they may spring up and bloom around the feet 
of the pilgrim of to-day! Thomas k Kempis 
says, "With humility and patience wait for 
the heavenly visitation ; for God is able to give 
thee back again more ample consolation.'' It 
is only by the power of God that our pleasure- 
loving natures can find peace and joy in the 
thoughts and prayers of this devout soul, but 
to one who loves the holy Will they abound 



"GOD WHO COMFORTETH." 45 

in Spiritual comfort. "A devout man/' he 
says, " beareth everywhere about with him his 
own comforter, Jesus, and saith unto him, ' Be 
thou present with me, O Lord Jesus, in every 
time and place. Let this be my comfort, to be 
willing to lack all human comfort. And if thy 
comfort be wanting, let thy will and just prov- 
ing of me be unto me as the greatest comfort, 
for thou wilt not always be angry, neither wilt 
thou chide for ever.* ** Fenelon is very helpful 
with his seemingly absolute surrender to God 
and consequent serenity under discipline. This 
holy man says to us, '' Happy they who are 
ready to accept everything, who never say it is 
too much, who depend not on themselves, but 
upon the Almighty, who ask only such measure 
of consolation as God wills to give them, and 
who live by his will alone.*' There are choice 
modern books written under the stress of great 
affliction, that, while they soothed and com- 
forted the questioning soul of the writer, per- 
petuated his consolation for those sure to follow 
in the same thorny and bewildering road. To 



46 CRUMBS OF COMFORT. 

how many have they been as God's angel of de- 
liverance in the mists and darkness of grief ! 

And the poets ! '' He giveth songs in the 
night." Some of the singers long ago ceased 
from their labors, but their music lingers as one 
of God's streams of comfort for those that are 
cast down. There is that hymn of Julius Sturm : 

" Pain's furnace heat within me quivers, 
God's breath upon the flame doth blow, 
And all my heart in anguish shivers 
And trembles at the fiery glow ; 
And yet I whisper, *As God will 1* 
And in his hottest fire hold still." 

The great value of ''In Memoriam*' can 
never be fully known until it is read as it was 
written, with yearning desire for the light of 
truth upon a great mystery. Our Whittier 
and Longfellow and Lowell, Rose Terry Cooke, 
Susan Coolidge, and H. H., and many poets less 
known, have embalmed their own discoveries 
of comforting grace in tender verse often used 
by God to soothe a soul in anguish. 

It is by such means that the promised Com- 



"GOD WHO COMFORTETH/' 47 

forter in part fulfils his mission, teaching, 
leading into the truth, taking of the things of 
Christ and revealing them unto our perplexed 
souls. But not all, perhaps not his sweetest, 
work is through human instrumentality. In 
the lonely stillness and seclusion, in hours 
when sleep will not come to tired eyes, beside 
the grassy mound sought only as a trysting- 
place between earth and heaven, the whisper- 
ings of the blessed Spirit bring strength and 
peace and even joy. It is the Spirit that tells 
us of God's unerring love, of heaven's near- 
ness, of life's bitterness escaped, of the new 
capabilities, of the blessedness of seeing the 
Master. He reminds us of the brevity of our 
own life. He makes us glad in the thought, 
and prompts such prayer and effort as we 
never knew before, that we may be made fit 
to be received into the heavenly home. It is 
by the silent power of the Comforter that 
we are moved at last to say, '' Thy will be 
done." Only his voice can still the storm 
of the soul. Only he can put down its re- 



48 CRUMBS OF COMFORT. 

bellion and bring it into loving subjection. 
"God who comforteth," and ^'The Comforter!" 
Paul was simply in accord with his Lord when 
he testified to that which had been wrought 
in him. Would that all who mourn might 
lift their wounded hearts to this God of all 
comfort and find the consolation he never 
delays to bring. 

** Himself hath done it ! Then I fain would say, 
Thy will in all things evermore be done ; 
E'en though that will removes whom best I love, 
While Jesus lives I cannot be alone. 

" Himself hath done it ! precious, precious words ! 
Himself, my Father, Saviour, Brother, Friend, 
Whose faithfulness no variation knows, 
Who having loved me loves me to the end." 

HELGA VON CRAMM. 



